Race Report: Kinetic 2007

Kinetic Half Ironman Triathlon
Lake Anna, Virginia
April 21, 2007

Going into this race, I should have been confident, since it was my third Half (and second time doing the Kinetic), but I wasn't.  For one thing, I had totally crashed & burned on the run in my previous Half, the 2006 Delaware Diamondman Triathlon (DDT).  For another thing, my knee had been hurting me since the Shamrock Marathon in March, so I hadn't been biking much and hadn't been running at all.  And finally, the water was COLD -- 53 degrees, and we were all kind of freaked out about that.  They had actually shortened the swim by 500 yards from 1.2 miles to 0.9 miles.

On Friday, I drove down to the race with my friends Bill Murray, Dave Turvene, and Will Colston.  Erik VandeMeulebrouecke also came along, not to race (though he was probably quite capable of smoking us all if he had) but to support us and to videotape us for fun. 

We got down to the Lake Anna shoreline in time for a pre-race talk, anxious about the hypothermia-inducing swim.  Our internet searches on cold water swims produced phrases like

"I didn't regain feeling in my feet until after the bike ride..."

"Pulmonary oedema induced by cold water swimming..."

"Cold water swimming-induced antinociception..."

"Few people can swim a mile in fifty-degree water"

"Cold water robs the body's heat 52 times faster than air."

The race leader guy strongly suggested we get in the water before the beginning of the race so that our body could experience its shock *before* the start of the race.  He said otherwise it was likely we would see a number of people turning right around and getting out.  We walked down to the water's edge and waded in -- and my ankles throbbed so badly from the cold that I couldn't stand to be in for more than a minute at any one time. Yikes.

That evening over our pasta dinner at a nearby restaurant there was much discussion of the cold water.  When morning came, we arrived at the starting area, which was throbbing with excitement and anticipation.  Thanks to Erik's help we unracked our four bikes from the back of Erik's minivan and went to set up our transitions.  Got body marked, and then I realized there was no more escaping the giant ice-water lake.  So we went down and dove in.  It did take my breath away and make me lose my kinesthetic sense (sense of body location), but I realized that this race was going to be doable.  The wetsuit kept my ankles from throbbing, and the rest of it was not so bad.  I, however, had a sleeveless "farmer john" wetsuit (better for keeping the arms free) so my arms were very cold.  I kept getting in and out, and each time it was easier to get in.  Then there was a delay because the local ambulance hadn't shown up, and I began really shivering - not only unpleasant, but a terrible waste of energy as my body tried to warm itself up.  Energy that I would need this day.  Someone handed out space blankets so that helped -- first time I've seen those used at the *start* of a race!  Then they said they were going to start the race, so I put my neoprene cap back on and dipped back into the water one more time.  I got out and stood there waiting for the first wave to start -- and realized I didn't have my goggles.  I frantically looked all over the ground, but didn't see them "My goggles! Anyone see any goggles!" I shouted, but all the racers just stood there, no one saw anything.  So I ran all the way back up to the transition area, where I (fortunately!) had stowed an extra pair in my sports bag.  I ran back to the beach and took my place back at the front of the pack at the water's edge just in time to see the first wave -- about 12 "elite" category guys -- go off, which gave me I think 3 minutes until my own wave.  I turned and a tall guy I recognized was standing next to me -- it was Adrian Fenty, the mayor of Washington.  "Good luck" I said to him, and he gave me an easygoing high handshake and likewise wished me luck and we exchanged a few words about the cold swim.  From what I'd seen of his times in other races (his racing was the subject of a feature article or two in the press), it looked like Fenty and I would be roughtly matched, and one of my goals was to beat him.  As it turned out, we would meet again, in a manner of speaking, before the day was done. 

And then we were off. 

Yep, the water was cold.  I ran in a little ways and then started swimming -- and then realized somethign was wrong: I didn't have my goggles on.  So I stood back up and put them on, then dove back in and started to swim.  The strange thing was that I could not tell how hard I was swimming.  Was I going too slow and easy?  Was I sprinting all out?  Because the water took my breath away, and my arms were numb, I honestly could not tell, all my normal bodily cues and signals that tell me how hard I am pushing it were all messed up.  It was the strangest sensation.  The first leg to the first buoy was quite rough, with a fair amount of collisions with other swimmers, but nothing too violent or painful (or maybe I was just too numb to mind).  By the second leg, I was fine, and after that it really wasn't bad.  My only regret is that I wasn't more relaxed on the swim -- I kept trying to find someone to draft behind, and in retrospect I tried too hard and got tense over it.  I never did really find a satisfying draftee.  Out of the water at the end of the first lap, jog across the beach, hear Erik cheering me on, slow to a walk, almost a standstill for a few seconds to catch my breath from the upright jogging, then back into the water for an uneventful second lap. 

Then it was out of the water again, and a quick jog up the beach to the transition area.  Last year in this race I did the swim in 32:30.  At a reasonable but relaxed pace I do a 500 in about 7:30, so I had guessed that the swim here (which was 500 yards shorter than last year) would take me about 25:00.  In fact, my time was 24:59.

My plan for T1 was to take it easy, get myself warm for the bike.  Being worried about freezing on the bike after the cold-water swim, I had planned to sacrifice T1 speed in favor of comfort.  When I got to my bike I toweled off, which was the first part of that plan -- but then realized that a) it was quite warm out already, and b) *I* was quite warm.  So I made an executive decision, abandoned my plan to bike with my yellow shell, and instead just wear my regular sleeveless tri shirt.  I emptied everything out of my shell pocket (bannanas, gels) and put it in my shirt. I didn't put on gloves. I got all stuck trying to put on my tight shirt, and then put on my helmet.  All this was very difficult because my hands were actually quite numb and I couldn't really grasp things well.  All in all, my T1 took 3:46, slow but not too bad (the average that day was 4:44 and some of my friends were up in the 6-8 minute range). 

Then it was up on my bike and I felt great.  The sun was shining, the day was gorgeous, I was feeling good.  I consciously stopped myself from going too fast all through the climb out of the park.  Just where we exited the park, I was still going easy but nonetheless on a slight downhill found myself rocketing by a couple guys.  This gave me a boost of confidence and I sailed along for the next 45 minutes or so, feeling strong and passing a lot more people than I usually do in these races, and hardly being passed.  Eventually I began to get passed a little more, but still felt pretty good the first loop.  By the second loop I was considerably more tired, and really began to feel my lack of bike training during the cold winter that set in in January and February, and in the build up and recovery from the March marathon.  In retrospect I should have been a tad less exuberant in the first half of the first lap.

My bannanas, which were perfectly ripe when I left home, had turned to mush.  That was a big disappointment.  But I still had my trusty Carbo-Pro drink.  3/4 through the first lap, Erik drove by, video camera in hand, and whooped at me.  Then I passed him parked by the side of the road, that was a lot of fun!  I saw Fenty's security guys -- the burly guys standing by the black vehicles dressed for church -- looking expectantly down the road so I figured I was still ahead of the mayor.  One time I asked a guy, "so am I ahead of the mayor?" He laughed and said "no" -- but I wasn't sure whether to believe him, it seemed like I was (I was). 

By the second half of the second loop I was definitely feeling like I was more tired than I wanted to be.  This was partly subjective, partly result of my evaluations of who was passing me -- more people than I wanted (and I was also passing some too, but not enough).  I was hesitant to push too hard, mindful of the run and what happened to me at the DDT. 

Back into the park at last, I removed my feet from my shoes - liberation! - and pedaled along with my feet on top of my shoes.  I also removed my socks (which I had put on out of my fear of being cold on the bike - in fact my feet were quite numb for about half a lap) from my feet and stuck them in my pocket in case I needed them on the run. I hopped off the bike at the dismount line, jogged the bike to my transition spot, parked it, grabbed a bottle of carbo-pro out of my bag, and grabbed my hat (into which I'd put everything I wanted on the run: race belt, gels, bandaids in case of foot pain) and sped out of transition. Not needing to put on shoes, I expected to have a top T2 time; in fact this all took me 57 seconds, which was the 5th fastest in the race (and the #1 fastest in my age group, the first time I have ever had a "1" next to my name in any results! I'll take what I can get). T2 is definitely my best event.

I had been a little worried about doing the run barefoot. When I took my shoes off at mile 17 of the Shamrock Marathon, I decided I would never run in shoes again, and intended to stick to that.  But, I hadn't run *since* the Shamrock due to my knee pain, and I was worried my feet might be a little tender, even though I had run up to 15 miles barefoot (actually in socks since it was winter) on asphault.  But, I wasn't worried enough to stick my thin, light water shoes in my wasteband as I thought about doing.  In fact, I quickly regretted this.  My feet *were* tender, and the pavement wasn't very smooth, and it was also hot, which I wasn't used to after training all winter.  So my feet were uncomfortable from about mile 2 or 3 through the rest of the race.  At mile 5 or so I stopped, put two large bandages on the balls of my feet (for cushioning) and my socks.  At mile 9 or so I stopped and added two more bandages in case the first had worn off (they hadn't, just felt like it).  My feet were uncomfortable the whole run, and I spent much of it running along the smoother center yellow line when I could (occasional cars made this difficult at times).  I was sure my feet would be bloody blistery pulps by the time I finished this race. 

The other problem was the heat.  As cold as it was in the morning, it had gotten quite hot by the run.  And this was really the first day I'd felt heat in many months, after the fall and then the cold winter that finally set in and never quite seemed to go away.  I began to do some short walks.  Though, they weren't always so short.  I would count backward from 20, intending to begin running again when I got to zero.  And then start the count again.  I don't know how much I ended up walking -- but I wasn't so distressed by it as I was at the DDT.  I guess my expectations were lower.  Overall this run took me 2:14:05, only about 3 minutes slower than last year, despite all my walking (I must have run a lot faster when I was running - not sure if that is a sign of progress, or a mistake!) It was also about 10 minutes faster than my DDT time.

Late in the race, I took some Coke from the aid stations -- and everything they say is true, for some reason, nothing tastes better than Coca-Cola in the late stages of an endurance race.  At just about mile 10, Adrian Fenty passed me.  Damn, only 3 miles left in the race and he passes me.

Finally, the unpleasant run came to an end, and it was across the finish line, get my medal, see Erik, get some water, and stand around waiting to cheer in my friends as they came in. 

My total time was 5:34:23.  Adjusting by 7:30 for the shortened swim and my year's worth of training got me almost exactly one minute off my time a year earlier.

Fortunately, other than maybe two small, very slight blisters, my feet were fine despite the 13.1 miles of
hot asphault -- I guess the discomfort was just part of the surface, and not actually ruining my feet!

Overall, it was a fun day, especially the swim and bike, and satisfying to know I've gotten to the point where I can do a half ironman and it's not a huge deal.  I would have liked to have gone faster, but I know that I was somewhat out of training due to my injury, the cold winter, and the taper and recovery from the Marathon. 

I had a funny realization after this race.  When I started triathlons, I always enjoyed the swim, being origianlly a swimmer, and I quickly grew to love the bike, but I always hated the runs.  Now I realize that ironically, my two favorite most enjoyable events that I've done are the two marathons.  The sport of running is really fun and enjoyable for me now.  But the sport of triathlon runs is painful and not much fun at all.

Also, after my bad run at the DDT, I took the lesson that I really needed to concentrate on my running and improve that.  No doubt that was partly true, and I did tackle that, and do two marathons, and I'm sure it helped.  But out there on the hot course at this race, I realized that being a good runner isn't what you need.  Otherwise my friends Dave and Will would be doing 1:35 run times in this race. What you need is to be a good endurance athlete.  It's just that the run is when your long-run endurance training is really put to the test, and if you don't have it, you suffer.  Right now I would be ecstatic to do the run in 1:55 in a Half Ironman -- but I've done that time, and could probably do it faster if I ever actually raced one.  So it's not that I need to run faster, I just need better endurance so my triathlon run time is closer to my fresh run time.

UPDATE: My co-racer and good friend Dave Turvene has posted his entertaining report on this race at http://www.dahetral.com/public-blog/categories/triathlon